


Empty Throne

by TJ_73



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pre-Canon, Slight Canon Divergence, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-20 23:21:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 10,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10672899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TJ_73/pseuds/TJ_73
Summary: Spanning five years, this is the story of how a Ministry spy and the MACUSA Director of Magical Law Enforcement are unwilling allies in stopping Grindelwald and all-out war in the magical world.-“I won’t do it.”“You don’t have a choice,” Max said quietly, hanging his head. “My superiors are going to your President tomorrow to demand aid. It wasn’t easy talking them into my going to you first, believe me. Our world is at war whether we like it or not, and I’m trying to give you a say in all this.”“What say do I have?” Graves’ face was twisted in disgust, fear and hurt in his eyes. He was being manipulated and he knew it. “I fought for my country ten years ago, you can’t force me into someone else’s war this time.”“Graves, this is our war. Wizard-kind, magical folk, every single one of us stands to lose if Grindelwald succeeds. How many murders have you had to investigate? How many “gas explosions” have you had to fabricate to placate the Muggles? People are dying Percival, Americans are dying for no good reason. We have a chance to stop this. To take down Grindelwald on our terms. How much more justification do you need?”





	1. Chapter 1

-1921-

“Thank you, leave us,” Graves said with a casual wave of his hand, dismissing the Aurors in his office. As they shut the door behind them Graves settled into his chair, staring blank-faced at the man on the other side of his desk. “Now would be a good time to start talking.”

The man bit his lip and looked up to meet Graves’ eyes before quickly breaking contact. He fidgeted a little in his seat, unable to find a comfortable position the way his hands were chained together behind his back. The silence in the room grew palpably uncomfortable but the man didn’t speak. 

“If you’ve nothing to say in your defence I’m inclined to recommend a punishment appropriate for treason,” Graves said at last, folding his arms together and sitting back in his chair. Not once did his eyes leave the man’s face.

“Treason? I haven’t done anything of the sort,” the man replied, matching Graves’ dark expression.

“I fail to see how trespassing into MACUSA archives and attempting to steal confidential files is anything but treason.”

“How was I to know your archives are off-limits? For a country that believes so strongly in access to libraries I’m rather surprised at your policies regarding magical information.” The man shifted again, growing frustrated at his discomfort. 

Graves was silent for a long moment, staring hard at the fellow opposite as though there was something about him he couldn’t quite figure out. “You’re not American.”  


The man shook his head. 

“I don’t suppose you have the proper documentation or a wand permit, do you?” Graves drew his mouth up into a tight frown, wrinkling his chin. 

The man said nothing, even the expression on his face illegible. 

Graves sighed deeply and stood before tucking in his chair gently and running a hand through his hair. The man stared up at him as the former Auror stalked slowly around his desk to stand behind his charge, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder. “ _Legilimens_ ,” he whispered.

The man could feel Graves’ consciousness in his head, burrowing painfully into his memories like a hot blade. He resisted but Graves fought back, forcing himself into the very corners of his prisoner’s mind. It lasted only a few moments but the man was panting by the time the connection was broken. 

“Max Johansen. Funny, you don’t strike me as a Slytherin.” The smug grin that was absent from his face was clearly discernible in Graves’ voice as he leaned casually against his desk, shirt sleeves folded up to his elbows as he dug his hands into the pockets of his trousers. 

Max looked up at him, a wounded look on his face. “What do I look like then? A Hufflepuff?”

A smile barely formed on Graves’ face before his entire expression fell. His lips parted slightly, eyes glassy, before darting back around his desk and flipping through the pages in a file on his desk. “This was one of the files you attempted to steal?” he asked without looking up. His mouth was a hard line now, eyes flicking back and forth across lines of text. 

Max said nothing. 

A shadow fell across Graves’ face, his hands clenching the edge of his desk as he stared at the page, eyes no longer moving but trained on something specific in the document that Max couldn’t see. Wordlessly he looked up to his prisoner and stretched out an open hand, forcing himself back into Max’s head with the Legilimens spell again.  


Graves could tell the man was hiding something, black holes in his memory that the Auror fought to obtain. He watched the memory of how Max had snuck into the MACUSA headquarters and into the archives, felt the anxiety and fear as the man had pulled the files off the shelf with shaking hands. Graves launched backwards into the stream of memories looking for the flashpoint to this ordeal, an event or a meeting with someone who paid him to get here but found nothing. Max’s mind fought him every step of the way, blurring faces and blacking out whole memories, trying to shake Graves’ concentration and force him back out. But he would not be dissuaded. In a quick blur of thought Graves found himself in a pristine memory, Max either too weak or impassive about hiding it. 

It was a party, the sounds of idle conversation and pleasant music greeting him as he stepped into it. The ballroom was grand, gilded in gold and decorated with rich fabrics and eagle effigies. Pastel dresses swished and twirled across the dance floor while dark suits and uniforms conversed over drinks. Graves knew those uniforms too well. The memory blurred then, shifting like a fog as another one took its place. A state room this time, curtains drawn, those same uniforms and suits poring over a map, arguing and bickering but in a language he couldn’t understand. His vision closed in on the map, markers placed carefully atop its surface to indicate troop movement and attack plans. This one quickly faded before Graves could make much sense of it and the spell had grown too weak to continue. 

He was still leaning on the desk in his office, breathing hard now. “Was that who I thought it was?”

“If I say yes you’ll kill me.”

Graves’ wand was in his hand in moments, its tip dangerously close to Max’s face. “Tell me who you are or I will execute you myself.” The look in his eye told Max that he wasn’t even remotely joking. 

“You won’t do it.” Max’s shoulders relaxed and he eased back into the chair. Rage passed across Graves’ face like a shadow. “If I don’t tell you who that was, the regret of killing me will eat you alive. You’ve seen too much of what’s in my head to not have answers.”

Graves didn’t lower his wand an inch, his expression hard. Max could tell he was thinking hard behind those dark eyes but a knock at the door interrupted the moment. 

“Not now!” Graves yelled a little too loudly. The door opened anyway, the figure in the doorway one of the most commanding silhouettes Max had ever seen. 

“Madam President, my apologies,” Graves stuttered before being silenced with a raise of her hand. 

“There’s an emergency that requires your attention,” President Piquery said, her tone even but forceful as she cast a quick glance down at the disheveled wizard in the chair before turning back to her Director of Magical Law Enforcement. 

“Yes, of course. Though I am in the midst of-“

“That was not an idle request, Mr. Graves.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said with a nod. 

Appearing satisfied, the President exited the room, closing the door soundlessly behind her. 

Graves pinched the bridge of his nose and inhaled sharply, before opening the door himself and calling to someone out in the hall. A young witch appeared in the room and Max got the feeling this was far from over. 

“Tina, take him down to the cells. I’ll finish interrogating him when I return,’ he said, buttoning his sleeves back into place and shrugging into his robe. “I want guards on him at all times.”

“Yes, Mr. Graves,” she nodded, placing an arm around Max’s bicep and pulling him to his feet, wand pointed awfully close to his face. 

“And you,” Graves turned back to the wizard as he pocketed his wand. “I want answers when I get back.”

“Yes, Mr. Graves,” Max said in an overly serious tone, a curt nod of his head mocking the man’s station. 

Graves leaned against his desk and drew a thumb across his eyebrow, staring into a corner as though the stress was simply too great to handle. “Take him, Tina. That will be all.”


	2. Chapter 2

Max tossed and turned on the cot in his cell, unable to find a comfortable position with his hands still tied behind his back. He had been in here for hours, that Auror Tina and someone else still standing guard while he writhed and groaned in frustration. 

“Look,” he said, sitting up at last. “I’m not going anywhere, would you mind taking these off?”

She cast a sideways glance at him but said nothing, turning back. 

“My arms are going numb, please,” he pleaded. 

“Quiet in there,” the other Auror barked, clearly not pleased to even be down here. 

“Mate, I was talking to her. If your pal Graves comes back to find my arms fallen off that’ll be on you,” Max said, making a show of straining against his bonds. 

“Alright, I’ll do it,” Tina said, pulling out her wand. 

“No, I’ll do it,” the other Auror said, taking out his. “In case this rat tries anything.”

Max mumbled something about that insult being unwarranted but stepped back to allow the wizard to cast his spell. With little more than a word the chains fell away and the blood flow returned to his hands. 

“ _Accio_ ,” he called, turning quickly to catch the Auror’s wand and counter Tina’s disarming spell with one of his own. “ _Petrificus Totalus_ ,” he said, the jinx rendering Tina immobile, before casting the same spell on the other Auror. He unlocked the door to the cell and used a minor charm to move the pair of them inside, taking Tina’s wand as well, before locking it again. The spell wouldn’t last very long, but this bought him a little more time. 

Max bounded back up the stairs to Graves’ office, careful not to draw attention to himself as he passed others in the hallway. A simple _Alohamora_ unlocked the door, much to Max’s surprise. He would have assumed the man to be more careful than that, but it made his work easier. He placed both wands upon the desk and scooped up the files where Graves had left them. A bit of rummaging around and he eventually found his own wand in a locked drawer. Tucking the files under his jacket and sliding his wand up into his sleeve he exited the room. 

He slowed his pace upon entering the main hall, the hand on the meter above his head nearing emergency. Max weaved casually through panicked throngs of people, careful to avoid house elves and goblins, and made his way to the door. He nodded to the doorman as he exited as though he were just another wizard, someone come to get a wand permit or perhaps visit an old friend for lunch. Luckily he needed none of these excuses and with a rush of magic he was back out on the streets of New York. It took seconds for him to disappear into the crowd.


	3. Chapter 3

“What do you mean he escaped?”

“He stole my wand, sir. Then-“

“I don’t care how he did it, I need to know where he went,” Graves pounded a fist against the surface of his desk, looking up at the Auror with fire in his eyes. 

“Yes, Mr. Graves.”

Tina and the other Auror were dismissed and Graves ran a hand down his face when the door closed. 

“Who is this man, Graves?” Piquery asked, her arms folded across her chest. 

“His name is Max Johansen, that’s all I found out. He’s a spy. Or works for one. Madam President, I will find him.” Graves said, jaw clenched.

“I have no doubt you will,” she replied. “But what danger does he pose between now and then? What was he looking for in those files?”

“I don’t know why he wanted those files, there was no apparent confidential information in them. It was just an old Auror’s report on a wizard who killed a No-Maj twenty years ago, and the other was little more than a folder of newspaper clippings and ads.”

“What happened to the wizard in that report?”

“Executed,” Graves said firmly. “I vaguely remember it. Twenty No-Majs had to be obliviated and there were whisperings of corruption in MACUSA when the wizard got slapped with a minor sentence. He was related to someone important at the time I think, but was finally executed to prove a point.”

“Why would our Mr. Johansen want such a file?” Piquery asked, pacing slightly. The click of her shoes on the floor echoed in the small room. 

“I don’t know,” Graves sighed, not brave enough to look up at her. 

“You looked into his memories, I presume? Was there anything there to help us find him?”

“I did. He’s had professional training in hiding his thoughts, I couldn’t get much more than blurs and echoes out of him,” Graves said, biting his lip and staring down at the desk. That was the first time he had ever lied to her.

“Whoever he is Graves, he’s still only a man. Find him.”

“Yes, m’am.”


	4. Chapter 4

The sun had long since sank into the Atlantic, New York City enveloped in a darkness broken only by buzzing electric lights and kerosene lamps. The street cobbles were greasy and slick with rain as Max raised his collar against the wind, walking quickly to his destination. He had been in the city for several weeks before attempting a move on MACUSA, but he knew he didn’t have long to gather the few things in his rented room and disappear. He had hid his thoughts as best he could from Graves but there was still a chance the Director would be able to piece together a location from glimpses alone. Most weren’t that smart, but there was something about Graves that made Max think twice about doubting him. 

“You’re late again, Mr. Johansen.”

He closed the door to the boarding house with a click, turning to find his landlord standing in the hall. 

“I’m sorry Mr. Robertson, won’t happen again I swear.” He said, sidling around the man to get to the stairs, clutching protectively at the files under his coat.

“You said that last week,” Robertson said, throwing out a hand and pinning Max to the wall. “And you still owe me half of this month’s rent.”

“I get paid tomorrow, you’ll have the money as soon as it’s in my hands,” Max wheezed, the heel of Robertson’s palm digging into his throat. “I had to work late tonight, I won’t miss curfew again.”

“And what’s that you’re hiding? You better not be bringing booze into my house, Johansen,” Robertson glared. He reached out with his free hand to grab at the files but Max scrambled to keep them, kicking the man hard in the gut to get loose. Robertson hit the wall in the narrow hallway but was flustered for only a moment before he came back swinging. 

“It’s just paperwork,” he said, ducking away from his landlord’s fist. But it was too late for excuses now. Max dodged another punch but was too slow for the hook that followed, the back of his head hitting the wall and the taste of blood in his mouth. He swore and slid his wand into his hand from where it had been in his sleeve for an occasion just such as this. 

“ _Stupify_ ,” he said, Robertson’s rampage momentarily suspended. With a short flick of his wand the man was obliviated and left to his own confusion in the hall as Max ran up the stairs and locked the door to his room behind him. 

It was still and dark, the room exactly as he’d left it. Lighting a lantern and setting it on a side table he packed his most important belongings into a case along with the files and was just about to leave the way he’d come when the young wizard caught his reflection in the mirror. The blow he’d taken had already blackened his eye, a cut oozing blood on his cheek from the ring the oaf had been wearing. Max sighed and poured some water from a porcelain jug into the wash basin, bending low to wash his face. He dried off on a face cloth, gripped the handle of his case and turned toward the door. 

“You really let a No-Maj do that to you?”

He whipped around to see Graves sitting casually on the edge of his bed, the man’s head down, fingertips pressed together. Max apparated away, but barely got to the window before Graves was on his feet and dragging him back, wand in his outstretched hand and a deadly look on his face. Max fought to get away, but the pull was too strong. He came back into the moment on his back, looking up at Graves. “Don’t suppose I can talk my out of this, eh?”

Graves drew up his mouth into that disapproving frown and shook his head, wrestling the case out of Max’s hand. 

“I understand how this looks, but I need to keep those files.” Max made an attempt to sit up but another shake of Graves’ head convinced him otherwise. “There’s no time for this, I need to make the drop or you’ll have bigger problems to worry about than me.”

“A drop? Who’s paying you?” A look of confusion crossed the Director’s face.

“I don’t know. But I’m more scared of them than I am of you. If I don’t drop these files MACUSA will be doing a hell of a clean-up job when people start dying.” Max’s mouth was dry as he tried to scramble to his feet. Graves’ foot pressed heavily on his chest to keep him down. 

“What’s going to happen? Who are these people?”

“I told you I don’t know! Even if I did I wouldn’t tell you. The life expectancy of people who get involved in this shit usually isn’t that long. All I know is that whatever’s in these files can keep innocent people from being killed.”

The pressure on Max’s chest eased slightly. He had Graves’ attention now.

“Look, you let me do this and you can bring me in. We’ll walk right back to MACUSA and we can tell everyone you did this to me,” Max pleaded, gesturing to his swelling eye. “But I can’t let this happen. Graves, please.”

The Auror’s expression was steely, looking down at the man he fought to apprehend. The man he’d lied to President Piquery to protect. Graves pinched the bridge of his nose and removed his foot from Max’s chest. He was in too deep now. 

Max slowly got to his feet and took his case back. “So begging is all it takes? You didn’t strike me as that kind of man Graves.”

“Keep talking Johansen and we won’t have to lie about me giving you a black eye.”

Max peered out the window absently and checked his watch. This was not good. Not good at all. A dark silhouette was framed in the dim streetlight, standing across the street. Not moving, just standing. It was too dark to see for sure but Max knew it was staring right into his window. 

“Did you hear me?”

“Hmm?” Max looked up to see that Graves had still been talking and back away from the window slowly. “We need to get out of here.”

“Who else knows we’re here?” Graves had Max by the lapels, his eyes wide and expression stern. 

“No one knows you’re here, and I’d like to keep it that way.” He tugged free of Graves’ grasp and looked back down at his watch.

“I should send for reinforcements. I don’t even know if I trust you yet, I could be walking into a trap.” Graves ran a hand through his hair and paced the room. It was Max’s turn to grab him by the coat now, pulling him away from the window. 

“Showing up with a band of Aurors would only get us killed. Me, specifically. And many others. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t trust me a little,” Max said, returning Graves hard look with the man’s coat still balled in his fists. 

“I’m here to apprehend you, nothing more.” Graves shrugged him off, biting his lip at the taste of the second lie he’d told today. 

Max stepped back and exhaled sharply. “Fine. You can have me when this is done, but until then stay out of my way.”


	5. Chapter 5

They exited through the rear door into an alley to escape the shadow under the streetlight, Max going first to peer around corners and check alleyways. Graves kept enough of a distance between them to appear as though they were not walking together, but the streets were mostly deserted and it left the pair of them feeling vulnerable. 

“You’re not going to tell me who that was, are you?” Graves whispered eventually. “The man in the memory I saw.”

Max shook his head as he checked a cross-street for signs of danger. “You’ll have no reason to keep me alive if I tell you now.” He walked quickly past the intersection, staying close to the building walls with Graves following closely now. “I’ll give you a hint though. I fought in the war.”

“Fought in the war? How old are you?”

“Just turned eighteen,” Max replied, more focused on watching his back than this conversation, but Graves’ confused expression caught his eye. “Not everyone fought on the battlefields. What about you? Where were you stationed?”

“What makes you think I fought in the war?” Graves asked. 

“I can see it in your face, you’ve seen terrible things Mr. Graves. That’s why you’re helping me. You don’t want to see any more.”

Graves opened his mouth to speak but Max silenced him with a finger to his lips. “Shh, we’re here,” he said, pointing to the entrance to Central Park. 

Graves stopped dead, staring up at the wrought iron archway and slowly shaking his head. There was no way he was going in there. “I’m calling for backup, there’s no chance that this isn’t, in fact, a trap.”

Max stood at the blackened entryway, framed by trees that looked sinister in the darkness. “That’s what I’m counting on.”


	6. Chapter 6

Central Park seemed to stretch on forever into the night, the pathways dark and silent. There came rustling in the trees that were no more than birds or squirrels but every sound made Max jump. He gripped the handle of his case tightly and checked his watch again. It was almost time. 

He found the correct bench and sat down under a large willow tree. There he set the case on his lap and opened it, pulling out the files and setting them down on the bench next to him. He closed the case and set it back on the ground. One last check of his watch, and it was time. 

“Mr. Taylor, I presume?”

A figure emerged from the fog to sit down on the other side of the bench, little discernible about him save for wide shoulders and a black felt hat, rain beading off its surface and dripping from the brim. He sat upon his coattails on the damp wooden bench, the files between them. 

“Aye, that’s me,” Max said, his voice inflecting the light drawl of an Irish accent that hadn’t been there before. 

“These are the files my agent requested? I trust you had no trouble obtaining them.”

“They’re all there, safe and sound. I had a bit of a run in with an Auror but nothing I couldn’t handle.” Max didn’t dare look over at the figure, staring straight ahead into the darkness. 

“And how did you deal with this Auror?”

“I gave him the slip. He’ll never find us.” Max cast a quick glance down at his watch. 

“Really? Then how did I _we_ find _him_?” The figure reclined in his seat, sitting casually on the bench with one arm across its back as though he were here to feed pigeons. Max’s face went white.

A shuffling in the trees behind them produced three more figures, one of them restrained by the other two. It was Graves, bound and gagged. Max stood with the case in hand. 

“Sit down Mr. Taylor.” The figure leaned forward and slowly got to his feet. “But it is Mr. Johansen, isn’t it?”

The moonlight caught the expression on his face under the hat’s wide brim and Max knew he was in trouble. 

“Mr. Graves has been a fountain of information. I hired you to do a job Mr. Johansen, and you brought the Auror into this.”

“You think I didn’t plan this?” Max set his case down and crossed his arms over his chest, a smug grin plastered on his face that he simply couldn’t help. “I know little of what your plans might be, but I do know that having the Director of Magical Law Enforcement out of your way will be beneficial.” He snatched the files back and tucked them neatly under his arm. “And as such, I want to renegotiate our deal.”

The figure was silent for a moment as the look on Graves’ face went from shock to rage. 

“What is it you want in exchange for the files and the Auror?”

“I want your network. All of your spies, all of your contacts. I want to be copied in on all of their reports,” Max said, running a finger absently down the edge of one of the file folders. The hatted man followed the motion closely with his eyes like a cat watching a mouse. 

“A steep price.” He finally replied. “Do you truly think the information in those files is that valuable? That he is that valuable?” He gestured to Graves who was squirming to get free, bloodlust in his eyes.

“I do. Everything in those reports points to MACUSA’s corruption, and I’ve just given you the posterchild for the revolution.”

Graves had been gagged but he was screaming obscenities at Max, most of them muffled but still discernible. The figure nodded in agreement. 

“Your terms are satisfactory, Johansen. Now give me those files and we’ll conclude this transaction.”

Max’s grin widened and he placed the files back down on the bench. The man moved to take them and a flurry of colourful curses flew from the shadows towards him. The two men that were holding Graves abandoned their post and appeared to have turned on their employer, wands in outstretched hands to subdue the wizard. More came out of the foliage around them, Aurors and apprehended witches and wizards as their charges. The situation had appeared to have resolved itself rather nicely. With his own wand Max released Graves’ bonds. 

“You bastard, you planned this?” he spat, rubbing at his wrists where they had been tied.

Max nodded. “You’ve already seen too much, but I couldn’t rely on your acting skills. Actually, I’m legally obligated to obliviate your memory of this.”

The Aurors around them had everyone in custody, waiting on a signal from their leader. Max nodded and one by one they apparated away, leaving him and Graves alone. It was silent save for the sound of rain in the trees, almost as if nothing had ever conspired there. 

“You could have told me what you were planning, could have warned MACUSA about all of this. Who were they anyway?” Graves was still fuming, but apparently more hurt than enraged.

“Grindelwald’s fanatics, a large chapter of them in fact,” Max replied, scooping the files back up off the bench and sliding them into his case. “Those Aurors were from the Ministry of Magic. I didn’t trust MACUSA, I still don’t. Not enough to risk this operation, anyhow.”

Graves’ mouth opened but he seemed to be fighting for words. “Just who are you?”

“Maxwell Johansen, Auror and Special Operations Agent for the Ministry of Magic,” he replied, extending his hand. Graves shook it firmly if a little confused.

“You’re a spy? Did you intend to get caught in the archives, then? Was that all part of your plan?” Graves asked. 

“It was not. You surprised me, Graves,” he said, backing up a little. “I’m afraid I lied to you, however. I’m not going to let you take me in, but you can still tell them all that you gave me a black eye.”

With a smile and something of a small wave, Max apparated away, leaving Graves alone in Central Park.


	7. Chapter 7

It was long past midnight when Graves finally arrived back at MACUSA headquarters. He could have apparated if he’d felt like it but the rain and a long walk helped him to put his thoughts in order. His coat was soaked through, hair dripping and out of place, but at least it was quiet inside. He ran a hand through his hair as he walked through the door in an attempt to straighten it somewhat but the only person in the lobby was the night guard who was sound asleep, his chin resting against his chest and a strangled snore easing out of him. Under normal circumstances Graves would have given the wizard a stern reprimand, but he was feeling a little too defeated to be pointing out other people’s flaws at that moment. 

He put a hand on the man’s shoulder as he passed, gently squeezing to wake him up, but did not stop as he continued down the hall. The guard blinked blearily awake, but by the time his vision cleared of sleep he could see no one. 

Graves entered his office and closed the door soundlessly behind him. He caught his own reflection in the glass cases around the room and looked down, peeling his coat from his shoulders and setting it on the back of his chair. He loosened his tie and sat down, groaning as he stretched and leaned back in the chair onto two legs before huffing and falling forward back onto all four of the chair’s legs. He tossed his cufflinks haphazardly onto his desk and unbuttoned the sleeves of his shirt, and rolling them up around his elbows.

There had to be some work he could he do to get his mind off this.

He was about to go rifling through the neat stack of open files on his desk when something about the one on top caught his eye. Its edges had been water-damaged, the paper wrinkled. He snatched it off the pile and opened it, a torn piece of paper sitting atop all of the other documents in the folder, a report he had grown quite familiar with in the past twenty-four hours. On the paper were two words:

_Wilhelm II_

“I knew it,” he muttered, closing the folder again and tossing it back on to the pile, triumphant. 

Now he had to find a way to tell President Piquery why he hadn’t apprehended Johansen. Though he had a feeling he hadn’t seen the last of him.


	8. Chapter 8

-4 Years Later-

“What is your opinion Graves?”

He looked up to see all eyes in the room on him. Picquery and a handful of Aurors all intent on hearing what he had to say. He cleared his throat. 

“Those Second Salem people are a nuisance, nothing more. They’ll be ostracized by the other No-Majs before they become our problem, and I suggest we leave them alone.” He took a step back from the table and drew his shoulders back, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his robes. “No one believes them anyhow.”

“What if people start believing them?” An Auror asked, poking his spectacles further up on his nose.

“No one in their right mind would believe them. They’ve been obliviated after that incident with Ms. Goldstein and they’re not a threat. Is MACUSA truly cowering at the feet of a crazy old woman and her brainwashed children?” Graves crossed his arms over his chest and met Picquery’s eyes. The decision to act or not eventually came down to her. 

She sighed and leaned a hand against one of the filing cabinets in the war room, as it was affectionately called. “Graves is right. For the moment they present little threat to the Statute of Secrecy, but if that changes we will act.”

“Once they gain a following it will already be too late. The last thing we need is to move MACUSA base of operations. Again,” said another Auror, a stern look on her face.

“We’re in no danger from No-Maj zealots whose only weapon is poorly-written leaflets,” Graves countered, effectively ending the conversation. Picquery nodded solemnly in agreement.

-

Graves slammed the door of his Brooklyn apartment, kicking off his shoes in a huff and awkwardly shrugging out of his coat, slinging it over the back of a chair in the hall. It had been a dreadfully long day of meetings and paperwork, the fallout from Tina Goldstein’s incident with that Second Salem boy still had his head in a vice a week later. Frankly, he was tired of dealing with it but he refused to do anything less than perfection on high-profile cases like these. Picquery expected no less.

He undid his tie and let the ends hang around his neck, stuffing the tie bar into the pocket of his coat and undid the top button of his shirt. It felt like he hadn’t breathed since he left the house this morning. Graves stumbled into the kitchen and lit the stove with a wave of his hand, boiling water for tea. What he needed was a stiff drink but tea would suffice for now. 

“You look like you’ve had a hell of a day.”

“You don’t know the half of-“ Graves stopped mid-sentence, remembering that he lived alone. “How the hell did you-“ He stopped again, turning to see who was sitting at his table. 

“You really need to start locking your doors better. A muggle could have picked that lock, Graves.” Max leaned back in the chair, throwing his head back and closing his eyes, resting his feet on the seat of one of the other chairs in the set. 

“Maxwell Johansen.”

“Percival Graves.” Max opened an eye to peer over at the man. “Merlin’s beard have you ever gone grey, man. You need to take a vacation.”

“Get out of my house.” Graves’ hands were clenched into fists. If he didn’t need a drink before, he sure needed one now. 

Max sat up a little straighter in his chair, putting his feet back on the floor and resting his elbows on the table. “We need to talk.”

“No,” Graves replied, “you need to get out.”

“Believe me, I wouldn’t be here if I had a choice,” Max said, pulling a folder from his coat and placing it gently on the table. 

Graves leaned against his counter and pressed the heel of his palm above his eye and winced as though he were suffering a terrible headache. The terrible headache was in fact sitting at his kitchen table. “If you stole that from the archives I swear I will execute you, Johansen.”

“Easy, easy. I’m here to give you information, not steal it.” He slid the file over toward Graves and flicked a finger to open the folder. “We… _I_ need your help.”

Graves was silent for a moment, moving closer to the table and peering down his nose at the open file. He ran a hand down his face in resignation and pulled out a chair to sit. “What is this?” he asked, leafing quickly through the pages.

“That is everything we have on Grindelwald. Including attack plans.” Max was struck with a sudden chill, a shiver going through him. 

“Attack plans?” Graves looked up. “Your Ministry plans to move?”

“Next month. I’ve been undercover for nearly five years to put this plan together, but we can’t do it on our own. That’s why I’m here,” Max said, his mouth a thin line. Graves had never seen the man this serious. 

“Then go through President Picquery, she’s the one who makes these kinds of decisions, not me,” Graves said, sliding the folder back across the table. 

“I will, or at least the Ministry will be in contact with her soon. But I wanted this to go through you first.” Max leaned forward, his fingers tightly interlaced upon the table. “Any information about Grindelwald that has gone to MACUSA has ended up back to him. Our plans have been leaked every time we’ve tried to move. I was right to distrust your Magical Congress four years ago Graves, because you’ve got a mole.”

“You want me to find them?”

“There’s not enough time.” Max rubbed his eyes in frustration. From the dark circles under his eyes Graves could tell he hadn’t been sleeping. “The information we have is good, and we might not get a better chance to take down Grindelwald. We don’t quite have the manpower you do, however. The Ministry has given me authority to recruit a small taskforce from MACUSA to help us take him down.”

“Authority to recruit? You’re a spy, not a military commander, and you sure as hell don’t have that kind of jurisdiction here.” Graves leaned back in his chair and folded his arms.

“I know I don’t, that’s why I’m here,” he said, practically pleading now. “You’re the only person in that entire organisation that I can trust. Grindelwald has been as much your problem as he has been ours. Help us take him down.”

“Johansen, you don’t know what you’re asking me to do.” Graves gave him a dark look, his expression nothing short of grave.

Max closed his eyes and laid his hands on the table. “I’m asking you to go to war, Percival.”

“Max…” Graves shook his head, and for a moment Max was afraid he would leave but the Auror didn’t move.

“I wouldn’t ask if we didn’t need you. I’m only following orders…” His mouth felt dry, tongue thick and heavy in his mouth. 

“I won’t do it.”

“You don’t have a choice,” Max said quietly, hanging his head. “My superiors are going to your President tomorrow to demand aid. It wasn’t easy talking them into my going to you first, believe me. The magical world is at war whether we like it or not, and I’m trying to give you a say in all this.”

“What say do I have?” Graves’ face was twisted in disgust, fear and hurt in his eyes. He was being manipulated and he knew it. “I fought for my country ten years ago, you can’t  
force me into someone else’s war this time.”

“Graves, this is our war. Wizard-kind, magical folk, every single one of us stands to lose if Grindelwald succeeds. How many murders have you had to investigate? How many “gas explosions” have you had to fabricate to placate the Muggles? People are dying Percival, Americans are dying for no good reason. We have a chance to stop this. To take down Grindelwald on our terms. How much more justification do you need?” Max was standing now, hands planted on the table as he glared over at Graves. 

Silence followed, practically echoing in the kitchen until the shrill shriek of the kettle filled the apartment. Graves didn’t move, didn’t so much as take it off the stove to stop the screaming, he only sat at the table with a shadow cast across his face. “How many men do you need?”

“However many you can spare, only those you trust.” Max moved into the kitchen and took the kettle, pouring it into the mug Graves had already set out. When the tea bag was floating contentedly in the steaming brew, Max turned back. “How do you take it?”

“Black, one sugar.” Graves didn’t turn around.

Max found a clean spoon and levelled off a spoonful of sugar from a porcelain bowl on the counter and stirred it into the tea. The clinking of metal against the inside of the mug filled the awkward silence and Max placed the cup on the table next to Graves. 

“I can get you a list of names by tomorrow. Where are we making our stand? Nurmengard?” Graves didn’t look up from the report in the file but took a greedy sip from his mug. 

“That’s right.” Max sat back down at the table. “We’re landing a major blow to his European forces next week. If all goes to plan Nurmengard will be essentially unguarded by the  
time we make our move.”

Graves was silent, reading through the file and drinking his tea like he was looking for the words to describe how he was feeling. It made Max uncomfortable, like he was just waiting for a lecture but it never came. 

“If you hadn’t caught me in the archives four years ago we wouldn’t be here,” Max mumbled. “You’re too good at your job.”

“If you were a better spy we wouldn’t be here,” Graves replied, looking up at last, a small smile on his lips. “

“I’m a great spy. Except most people I steal from are idiots,” Max forced a small laugh. 

“That means you’re a terrible spy.” Graves took another sip of tea and flipped a page. “How’d you end up involved in all this, Johansen?”

“Just fell into it, I suppose. The Ministry recruited me when I was thirteen for a covert operation in Prussia. But you know all about that.” He said, running a finger over a pockmark in the wooden tabletop.

“Wilhelm?”

Max nodded. “I leaked their battle plans back to the British government. Posed as the son of some Prussian diplomat. What about you? How’d you end up as the Director of Magical Security?”

“Family honour and all that,” he said, waving a wand as though dismissing the thought. “My ancestor was one of the first American Aurors, and we’ve been old money ever since. My choices after Ilvermorny were Auror and Auror, so I chose Auror.”

“Logical enough,” Max shrugged and got casually to his feet, tucking in the chair silently. “I best be going. I’ll stop by your office tomorrow before that meeting with your President. You ought to be there.”

Graves nodded as the spy showed himself out, hearing the lock click behind him as he left. He sat at the table reading the file until dawn.


	9. Chapter 9

Max felt as though he were back in the headmaster’s office at Hogwarts, the threat of detention or worse looming over him as his superiors cast him a side glance while they spoke. He straightened a little, tugging on the hem of his jacket so it would sit flat across his shoulders. All that was missing from this dreadfully uncomfortable moment were the portraits on the walls looking down at him in disappointment. 

“This is the information you’ve brought me?” Picquery asked, staring hard at the file open before her on the table of the war room. She looked up at the Ministry Aurors with an accusing glare. “You’re asking me to assemble a force on the basis of what? Rumours? Suspicions?”

“That information is the result of five years in the field. We’ve got a dozen agents infiltrating Grindelwald’s forces and they’ve all confirmed what you have before you,” the Auror said, her crisp Brighton accent filling the room. 

“I don’t care if it is the result of twenty years in the field, I am not willing to risk my people on so little information.” Picquery’s expression was cold, her stance indicating that she would not move on this matter. 

“This is more than enough to move on Nurmengard, Madam President. Grindelwald may seem more our problem than yours but America has not been beyond his reach. Just four years ago we apprehended twenty-seven of his operatives in New York alone-“

“Yes, arrests that were outside of your jurisdiction and co-ordinated by a wizard who broke into the MACUSA archives, assaulted two of my Aurors, and nearly had my Director of Security killed. Had he not succeeded he would have been tried and executed for treason.” Picquery’s gaze turned to Max now even as she spoke to the Ministry Auror. “It remains to be seen whether he is guilty of this charge or not.”

Max opened his mouth to reply but his superior held up a hand to silence him. All at once he felt eleven years old again. 

“Johansen has been one of our most valuable agents for nearly ten years, but the purpose of this meeting is not to address past events nor his qualifications,” the Auror continued. “Our world, our very way of life is being threatened Madam President. History will remember who fought and who did not.”

“History is not my concern, Ms. Wilson. The lives of my Aurors are more important than their names on memorials. I’ll not be the one to send them to their deaths on this suicide mission.”

Just as Wilson was about to reply the door opened, Percival Graves entering the room with a dark expression and an air of authority. The door slammed behind him as he came to stand beside Max, everything about him bristling with electricity. Nothing about his appearance gave the indication he hadn’t slept the night before, tie straight, not a hair out of place. Max stiffened beside him, unsure if he was about to be arrested given then illegible expression on Graves’ face.

“Ms. Wilson, my Director of Magical Security, Mr. Graves,” Picquery said, her hands folded neatly behind her back with the smug tone of a general whose cavalry had just arrived. 

He gave a short nod by way of a greeting.

“Graves, the Ministry of Magic is demanding-“ Picquery began. 

“Aid in defeating Grindelwald, I am aware Madam President.” He finished her sentence for her, eyes closed and a regretful look on his face. 

President Picquery was stunned for a moment, looking harshly at everyone in the room before settling her gaze back on Wilson. “Is this your attempt to undermine me? To brief my staff before coming to me directly is underhanded at best,” she said calmly, though it was no great secret that she was livid. 

A confused look came across Wilson’s face as she turned to Max. “I knew nothing about this, Madam President.”

Suddenly all eyes in the room were on him. 

“I went to Graves on my own,” he said, head high. “He deserved to know.”

“And you did not feel the need to inform me of this, Mr. Graves?” Picquery’s expression was as icy as the steel in her voice. 

“I was only made aware of this late last night, Madam President. I had assumed –incorrectly-“ he glared over at Max, ”that you were also briefed beforehand.”

“When and where did this ‘briefing’ occur?” Wilson asked Graves, her gaze also still fixed pointedly on Max.

“His kitchen,” Max said before Graves could reply. He focused his eyes on a spot on the ceiling, not wanting to see the look of rage on Wilson’s face. 

“You divulged classified information in an unsecure location?” she asked incredulously. 

“And you didn’t think to inform me of this?” Picquery directed at Graves. 

The pair of them were silent, staring down at their shoes as if the answers to those questions were written down there somewhere. 

“Regardless of these circumstances,” Graves began, raising his head and drawing back his shoulders to look Picquery in the eye. “It’s a good plan.”

Max did his best to hide a faint smile as he continued to stare down at the floor. 

“I’ve read through the file, and this is the best chance we have at neutralizing this threat. But Johansen was right to be mistrustful of MACUSA. Everything regarding Grindelwald that has come through my department has been relayed back to the enemy.”

Picquery looked from Max to Wilson and back to Graves. 

“The Ministry could have chosen to move on Nurmengard without MACUSA’s help. That would have likely been the smartest choice,” Graves said, casting a pointed glare toward Max. “Choosing to involve us is risking the success of this entire operation.”

“But you deserve to know,” Max picked up. “America has not been immune to Grindelwald’s influence, and you deserve the chance to help us end this.”

Wilson, though still visibly furious with her agent nodded in resigned agreement.

“Madam President I am prepared to provide a list of Aurors that I would trust with my life to aid them,” Graves said. “But this is your decision alone.”

Picquery nodded slowly and turned back to the file on the table. Graves could tell by the look on her face she was fighting for a solution in her head, trying to choose between what was right, and what was easy. “I will review your information today and you will have your answer tomorrow morning,” she said finally. “Until then, I want no ‘incidents’ of any sort. Understood?” She glared at Graves and Johansen who both nodded their heads as an emphatic yes before being dismissed.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Sorry for the delay on this chapter, exams and moving kinda wrecked last week. Also, this fic has over 100 hits? How?)

“You told me you had permission from your superiors to come to me.” Graves slammed his fist against his desk, the intricate, magical mechanisms shaking slightly in their glass cases. He glared at Max and waited for an explanation, and it had better be a damn good one.

“I…well, I lied,” Max said. It wasn’t an easy admission, spies didn’t show their weaknesses like this. But at this point Graves deserved nothing less than the truth. This had all gone sour, and Max could taste the tang of blood in his mouth. 

“This mission then? The file? The mole? What is the truth, Johansen?” Graves collapsed into his chair and dug his fingers into the corners of his eyes, pinching his nose and squinting hard. “For all I know you’re working for Grindelwald and this ‘mission’ is a setup for me and my Aurors.”

Max was silent for a long moment as he met Graves’ eyes, a weary look on his face. He couldn’t blame the man for being suspicious. “The truth is that I’m out of my depth here.” He looked away and sat down in the chair where he had sat four years earlier. “I’ve been chasing Grindelwald for years, but he’s always eluded me. This is likely the best chance we’ll ever get at stopping him. That file is everything the Ministry has and if all goes to plan they might not send me to Azkaban for the rest of my life for giving it to you.”

“Why risk it? Why would you put all of this at stake by coming to me with this information?” Graves was leaned back in his chair, confusion in his squinted eyes and open mouth. 

“Because I’m an idiot, I don’t know,” Max gave a forced laugh and stared up at the ceiling, his expression turning suddenly grave. “I learned four years ago that it’s easier to work with you than around you. I nearly got you killed. I figured you deserved to know what was about to be asked of you.”

“You’re really asking me to believe that you did that out of the goodness of your heart?” Graves’ expression was incredulous.

Max laughed in response. “Merlin’s beard, no. I’m asking you to believe that I trust you, for better or worse. Trustworthy men are hard to find in my line of work, Graves. I didn’t anticipate you to be so staunchly in favour of the plan, however. I think you nearly had President Picquery convinced.”

“She knows what must be done, as do I. I’m wary of this espionage but if this is how war can be avoided then you have my support. Support that is conditional upon Picquery’s consent.” 

“Of course,” Max nodded.

“Next time tell me what you’re up to before we’re both canned for insubordination, all right?” Graves raised his eyebrows, a slight smile upon his lips.

“If that makes you happy,” Max laughed. 

Graves opened his mouth to reply when a knock at the door interrupted the conversation. “What is it?” Graves called and the door opened, a young wizard standing there anxiously. 

“What is it Abernathy?” Graves asked, trying unsuccessfully to veil the unimpressed look on his face. 

“It’s the – uh, Second Salemers again, sir. They’re back on the soapbox again, only this time they’ve got an audience,” Abernathy stuttered. 

“Where are they?” Graves was already on his feet and putting an arm through the sleeve of his coat. 

“The bank,” Abernathy said, moving quickly to avoid Graves who was already out the door. 

“What are you going to do?” Max asked, jogging to keep pace with Graves and fighting with his own jacket. “I’ve done my own investigation on that Barebone woman, she’s got no connection to Grindelwald as far as I can discern. She’s just a paranoid Muggle.”

They passed through the revolving door and out on to the sidewalk outside. A cold spring wind was blowing in the city, the skies threatening rain. The air was clearer than usual with all the smoke from the factories being blown quickly away. 

“Paranoid or not, this is something I need to keep an eye on.” Graves was looking straight ahead toward their destination but turned to meet Max’s eye for a moment. “If you’re coming you’ll do as I say Johansen. We can’t afford any more incidents, and you’re rather prone to them. Just stay quiet and out of the way. Got it?”

Max nodded and turned his collar up against the wind, having to take long strides to keep up with Graves’ pace.


	11. Chapter 11

They arrived at the foot of the bank’s steps amid a modest crowd. Most passers-by didn’t even look up at the woman shouting damnation and hellfire. The people who did stop usually lost interest within a couple minutes and continued on with their day, but there were a few who were staring transfixed at the notion witches could be among them in New York. 

“I’ve not seen her have a crowd this big,” Graves whispered. 

“Didn’t you have to obliviate her recently?” Max whispered back. “You’re here to make sure she doesn’t remember anything.”

“Among other things. This is becoming more of a headache than I’d care to admit.” Graves was watching the crowd, getting a feeling for their reactions. 

“What’s with those children?” Max asked, pointing to the three of them standing on the steps with their mother. “They don’t look exactly thrilled to be here.”

“That’s Chastity and Credence Barebone, and…the little one’s name escapes me. One of my Aurors got too close to them and took matters into her own hands. It’s been a nightmare ever since.” Graves ran a hand through his hair.

“Barebone…why do I know that name?” Max bit his lip, a confounded look on his face.

“You’re thinking of Bartholomew Barebone,” Graves said. “A Scourer over a hundred years ago. He’s the reason for Rappaport’s Law after the largest breach of the Statute of Secrecy in our history.”

“And these are his descendants then? I don’t envy you, Percival.” Max took a few steps back and looked both ways down the street, looking for a food vendor of some kind. He was starving. 

“What do you believe sir? Do you not think witches live among us?” Max looked up to see Mary Lou Barebone looking at him. Everyone in the crowd had turned as well. Graves’ face was red. Max put a hand over his chest and looked back at her, eyebrows raised as though to ask “me?” She nodded and pointed at him. “Yes, you sir,” she said. 

Max looked around, an uncomfortable look on his face. “Meg? Jeg forstår ikke, jeg kan ikke snakke engelsk.” Mary Lou looked particularly put out but no one offered to translate. 

“Forgive him,” Graves said finally. “He’s fresh off the boat, just arrived this morning. Doesn’t know a word of English.” He turned to Max and muttered some gibberish, as though explaining something to him in another language. 

“Ja,” Max said, nodding like he understood “Ja, bra.” He turned back to look at Mary Lou with a beaming smile upon his face and began clapping like he was giving a standing ovation at the end of a play. The rest of the crowd slowly joined in, some whispering between themselves wondering if this Second Salem was really just an elaborate street performance. When the applause subsided most of the loiterers dispersed, Graves and Max included. 

“What the hell was that?” Graves asked, shoving Max up against a wall around the corner. He was trying to maintain a serious expression but it was clear the Director’s resolve was disintegrating into laughter. 

“You said to stay quiet, but she asked me a question. What was I supposed to do? Now her little following is gone and I didn’t cause an incident. Happy?” Max shrugged. 

“I suppose that could have turned out a lot worse,” Graves said, letting the spy go. “We should get back to MACUSA, having you out in public is just asking for trouble.”

“You go ahead, I’m going to get lunch first. I’ve heard all about this pizza place in Manhattan but never got there while I was living in the city.” Max turned to go, looking up at the street signs in an attempt to orient himself. 

“No you’re not. I’m not letting you out of my sight, Max.” Graves crossed his arms and stood in his way. 

“You do remember I infiltrated the Prussian Empire when I was fourteen, right? I can get a slice of pizza without blowing up New York,” Max laughed, sidestepping Graves and walking into the wind. “But if you want to come, I’ll buy.”


	12. Chapter 12

“How’d you end up working for the Ministry?” Graves asked, taking a bite of his slice of pizza. He seemed rather uncomfortable eating it with his hands, licking sauce off his thumb. “Do they make a habit of hiring thirteen year olds?”

“Hardly. They drafted me when I was in my third year at Hogwarts and working in a pub in Hogsmeade at night, even though I was underage.” Max took a bite of his own pizza and sipped an Italian soda through a straw. “I snuck back in to the school through the Forbidden Forest every night, got a few hours sleep and went to class. Did that for a little over two years before I got caught. I hid out in the Forest for six days when the order came down to have me expelled, but word got back to the Ministry and in fear of me being a spy they sent in a couple Aurors to drag me out.”

“So you’ve always been a pain in the ass then,” Graves raised an eyebrow and stifled his smile with another bite of pizza.

“Pretty much,” Max replied with a laugh. “They brought me in, and when it came to light that the worst of my crimes was being out after dark and working in a tavern they offered me a job. It was small things at first, keeping tabs on their own agents and whatnot. We lost most of our agents in Prussia after a political misstep so I was assigned to Berlin along with a few others who posed as my father and our staff. We were supposed to be from some noble German family, keen to protect our homeland. You know how it goes.”

Graves nodded, his mouth full. 

“Apparently I bore a striking resemblance to Prince Oskar at that age, and the Kaiser loved to regale me with war stories. It all worked out better than my superiors could have hoped, so just before the war ended we faked the deaths of our aliases and went back to Britain.”

“You make it sound so simple.” Graves wiped his mouth on a napkin and drank from his own glass bottle of soda. “The War seems to have tied itself up in a neat little bow for you.”

“There was no shortage of assassins and attempts on our lives, not to mention the air raids. No one but the Ministry of Magic knew we were behind enemy lines. My partner, the one who played my father, he was killed in a bombing in Berlin. I wasn’t on the front lines Percival, but war wasn’t all fancy parties for me.”

Graves was silent a long time as he stared at the red and white checked table cloth in deep thought. “I was in France, in the trenches. I still can’t stand wearing wet socks,” he said with something of a laugh but it came out hollow, making eye contact with the table cloth. “I watched a lot of good men die, and I killed a lot of men who were only doing their duty. I killed a lot of bad ones too. But that’s in the past now.” He sighed and looked back up. “That’s what we’re doing here, isn’t it? We’re going to stop a war before it starts.”

“That we are,” Max replied, tapping the neck of his bottle against Graves’ in a half-hearted attempt at cheers.


	13. Chapter 13

The sun rose over the city the next morning in a brilliant halo of pink and gold, but by the time Graves arrived at work it had already begun to rain. He cursed his wet socks and went straight to the elevator, not even bothering to stop at his office. A handful of Aurors were waiting at the door to Picquery’s war room along with Max and Wilson. 

“Any word?” he asked, slicking a loose strand of hair back into place. 

“None,” Max replied.

They stood in silence for a few minutes before the door was opened and they filed in, President Picquery standing over the table littered with maps and reports. She folded her hands together neatly before her, posture ram-rod straight as she addressed the room. “The Magical Congress of the United States will assist the Ministry of Magic in apprehending Grindelwald,” she declared. 

Max’s knees nearly gave out in sheer relief. 

“You have been chosen to participate in this mission,” Picquery continued, speaking to the Aurors “under the command of Mr. Graves.” 

Max looked from Picquery to Graves and back again. He didn’t expect her to let him go so easily, and Max wasn’t sure how he felt about forcing Percival back on the front lines like this. 

“It’s an honour, Madam President,” Graves said before turning back to the Aurors. “If any of you are unable to serve, see me privately in my office this afternoon. Otherwise we’ll be boarding a ship for England tomorrow morning.”

The Aurors nodded solemnly, a mixture of fear and excitement on their faces. 

“We’ll be attacking Nurmengard. Grindelwald’s forces will be reduced but this is an offensive operation that will likely be the key to stopping a war,” Wilson said, shifting the papers on the table so they were all looking at a map of the prison fortress. “You’ll be with the bulk of the Ministry forces here,” she pointed to the front gate on the map. “The aim is to take the keep here, and apprehend or eliminate Gridelwald’s followers. But there will be plenty of time to discuss battle plans later.”

The Aurors were dismissed with strict orders not to disclose the nature of the mission to anyone, and once again it was Graves, Picquery, Wilson, and Johansen alone in the room. 

“You’re wondering why I’m sending Graves as well, aren’t you Mr. Johansen?” Picquery turned to him when the door had closed. 

“Madam President, I…honestly, yes. I am.” Max stuttered, unprepared to be called upon so openly. 

“Whether Grindelwald is the Ministry’s main priority or if there is something else I am as of yet unaware of, Mr. Graves is my most trusted colleague and he will still be working for MACUSA regardless of who is heading this taskforce. Am I making myself perfectly clear?”

“Yes, Madam President,” Wilson replied, jumping in before Max could say anything stupid. 

“Madam President, if I may?” Graves began, a nod from PIcquery allowing him to continue. “My duty is to my country and to wizard-kind. I would have fought for my place on this mission had you not permitted me to go. Grindelwald is a problem the Ministry of Magic is clearly unequipped to handle, and there is no one here who understands the logistics of war better than I. I will see our people make it home safely.”

Picquery took a moment to digest the statement. “I do not regret my decision then. See that you do, Graves. Now, make sure things are in order before your departure tomorrow. There are matters I must discuss with our guests from the Ministry.”

Graves bowed his head and saw himself out. 

“That man is as invaluable to this country as I am,” Picquery said, her gaze icy. “You will do everything in your power to protect him.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Max said, cutting Wilson short who appeared to be on the verge of starting an argument. “This may not mean much coming from me, but I will personally see to his safety.”

“It would be a lie to say I trusted you Johansen, but Graves appears to and I trust his judgement more than any other. There is something he sees in you that I do not. However, if he is prepared to risk his life then I will not stand in his way.” Picquery paced the room quickly, her shoes clicking against the floor. “I will hold you personally responsible if something should happen to him.”

“Now Madam President-“Wilson began, before Max held up a hand to silence her, stepping forward to look Picquery in the eye. 

“Agreed.” He offered his hand to make this a true oath, his expression deadly serious. She shook it firmly.


End file.
